


we will find the hesperides

by jesterwrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pirate England, Pirate/Prince AU, USUK - Freeform, basically all of the characters, gerita - Freeform, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterwrites/pseuds/jesterwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a pirate, bound to the sea and sky alone. But everything changes when he sees the boy with the ocean in his eyes and rebellion in his smile.</p><p>ON HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone and welcome to my first multi-chapter fic, We Will Find The Hesperides!  
> I've been planning this for a while, so hopefully I'll be able to update often! I don't have a schedule for updates yet, but once I get used to writing this I'll try to work something out.  
> Thank you so much for reading, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it!

The late afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky over the island of Marinius. Alfred felt the warmth of the sunlight settle on his face and hair as he walked through the open-air market. The light breeze fluttered his tunic and swirled the dust around his feet when his boots hit the ground. His easy strides were undeterred by the overwhelming crush of people around him; even the loud bickering and bartering between merchants and would-be customers didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

Alfred loved this, being just one of the people in the crowd, just another forgettable face on the street. He was entirely on his own. It amazed him that not a single person cared about who he was or what he was doing- apart from the merchants, who all seemed rather insistent that Alfred buy their carpets or perfumes or paper lanterns or golden rings.

Still, a voice nagged at him from the back of his mind.  
You know you shouldn’t be here, you know you’ll get caught, it whispered.  
Shut up, he told it. He didn’t want to think about anything that would ruin this day, this little bit of liberty. Freedom was something he didn’t get much of.

He paused at a merchant’s stall, carefully eyeing the colorful amulets hanging on a rack. They were pretty, but Alfred knew that they could easily be fakes and he didn’t want to waste his money.

The one that caught his eye was a shell on a black cord, spiraled like a nautilus but smaller and brighter, blue and green stripes cascading over the smooth surface. It was no fake, he could see that, and he reached out and touched the surface.

Immediately, the merchant, a small man with long hair who had been watching Alfred rather suspiciously, slapped his hand away.  
“No touching,” he snapped. “You want to touch it, you have to buy it.”  
The shell was attractive enough, Alfred supposed, and he could always tell Matthew that he’d found it in the garden rather than buying it from a dubious merchant in a sketchy street stall.

“How much do you want for it?” 

The man’s eyes shone greedily.

“Seventy-five gold, normally. But you can have it for seventy-three.”

Inwardly rolling his eyes, Alfred handed over the gold and took the amulet from the rack. Seventy-three gold coins was a complete rip-off, but these merchants could be rather nasty if you argued with them, so there was no use in trying to barter.

He reached up, brushing his blonde hair away from his face as he carefully tied the amulet around his neck. The cord was long enough that the shell hung just below his collarbone, and Alfred shivered slightly at the feeling of the cool shell against his warm skin. 

He adjusted his glasses and continued through the streets, away from the market and into the square. The fountain in the center was running, splashing water into the pool at its base, and Alfred gazed up at the statue of Poseidon, watching the water flow from his mouth and the points of the mighty trident he held in one hand. The statue’s other hand was raised up, gesturing reverently eastward to where the streets led to a towering metal gate, behind which was the largest, grandest building in all of Marinius: the castle. 

It was symbolic, the statue’s position: the sea yielding to the monarchy.

Alfred hated it.

The sea was everything Alfred wasn’t. It was uncontrollable, reckless, free. It would never be controlled by any king.

He turned once more to look at the castle. To anyone else it would have seemed majestic. The sight of it made Alfred sick. How ironic, he thought, that the one who hates the castle the most would be the one who lived there?

For nineteen years the wrought-iron gate had been Alfred’s cage. He was trapped, stuck, unable to go anywhere or do anything. Since his father had died several years ago, his mother having died of the vicious fever that had ravaged Marinius soon after Alfred had been born, his older brother Matthew was the king.

As much as Alfred hated to admit it, Matthew was a good ruler. He was gentle and tolerant; his kindness brought him the adoration, it seemed, of everyone but his own brother. 

His brother, the spiteful young man who was so awfully rebellious that he had to be kept on a tight leash and wasn’t allowed outside the castle.

That’s what Matthew always said, anyway.

Alfred had been ever-so-carefully watched over ever since the day, three years ago, when he’d told Matthew that he wanted to be a sailor.

Following his rise to the throne, Matthew was extremely cautious about what he and Alfred did, not wanting any controversy or scandal. He was passionately opposed to anything that could tarnish his precious reputation, and now his younger brother was telling him that he wanted to be a sailor, of all things.

In Matthew’s defense, he’d tried to be patient. He had tried to talk Alfred out of it, telling him that life was better here, that he had been born royal and that he was far too good to ever do something as dirty and demeaning as sailing.

But Matthew’s discouraging did absolutely nothing to deter Alfred- if anything, he seemed even more adamant that he discard his royal title and run off to the docks, to sail the high seas.

Which he immediately tried to do. He’d snuck out one night and boarded a ship, only to find that the guards recognized him and, on orders from King Matthew himself, dragged him back to the castle.

That was how it had been ever since. The guards were told that Alfred was not allowed outside the castle, and that under no circumstances was the prince ever allowed near a ship.

Alfred could slip easily past the castle guards, but the docks in the bay were too open to try and sneak past the guards there.

That left him with nowhere to go but the market, the square, and the back streets of the town. But as lonely and rebellious as he was, Alfred was an optimist, and so he roamed the area as freely and as often as he wished- as long as the guards didn’t know he was gone.

The realization that the sun had begun to sink in the sky tore Alfred away from his thoughts. The guards would be changing their stations for the evening shift soon. He left the square and made his way to the gates of the castle. Before the sentry could spot him, he turned the corner and headed for the unguarded southwest gate, an old entryway that was only used for deliveries to the castle kitchens and, of course, for Alfred’s escapes from the castle.

He slipped up the side staircase, taking the steps two at a time to reach the top faster. He darted down the hall and into his room, aware that a guard could catch him at any moment and question him on his whereabouts for the past few hours.

He shut the door behind him and leaned heavily on it, his heart pounding.

Then he walked over to the window, the bright rays from the setting sun shining through and casting yellow-orange light across the room.

Outside, the ocean glowed as it moved up and down the shore, the sound of waves reaching Alfred although he was so far away from the beach.

He turned and threw himself onto his bed, letting himself be comforted by the sound of the sea he would never touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm here with chapter two of the story. Sorry if it's a bit late- vacation was in the way, but my schedule has since cleared up a bit.  
> Feedback is appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy!

Captain Arthur Kirkland stood on the deck of the Emerald Queen, feeling the roll of the deck beneath his feet and listening to the rhythmic rush of the waves. The sky was cloudless and bright, and the sea was shimmering with sunlight- it was the perfect day for sailing.

Around him, the pirate’s crew busied themselves with their daily duties: swabbing the decks, polishing their cutlasses, cleaning the cannons. But Arthur could tell that they were growing restless. They had been sailing for almost two weeks without encountering a ship that they could attack or an island where they could trade their goods. His crew was getting bored, and even he had to admit that the endless sailing was growing rather tedious.

They were pirates, after all, and they lived for excitement and adventure. The ocean was a wild force indeed, but even so, they craved something more, something dangerous.

But they were headed west now, and they would reach Marinius soon enough. From what he’d heard, the island was mainly forest, with the exception of a large port city, separated from the forests by a massive castle, where the royals lived.  
He and his crew would do well to avoid the authorities of Marinius, Arthur mused, lifting his sword from its sheath and running his finger lightly against the flat blade, careful not to cut himself on the sharpened edge. He knew that pirates were never welcome on any island, regardless of their intentions.

“Land ho!” yelled Alistair, Arthur’s first mate, from the crow’s nest. Indeed, when Arthur looked up, he was almost startled at the sight of a shore on the horizon. As they drew closer to the island, the captain realized that the bay was the main port and would likely be the most heavily guarded. He turned to his crew.

“We shouldn’t dock in the bay. Set a course for the northern point of the island.” Excited with the promise of finally setting foot on dry land, the crew rushed to follow Arthur’s orders. On his map, Arthur could see that Marinius was shaped like a crescent. The southern point had a rocky, jagged coast, while the northern point was merely an unoccupied beach.

Once they had dropped anchor, Arthur ordered his crew to set out the gangplank and prepare to head out onto the island.  
***  
It was a typical afternoon for Alfred. He was sitting on the low stucco wall between two buildings in the village, swinging his legs back and forth and watching the passerby.  
His morning hadn’t been a good one. He’d argued with Matthew at breakfast, and, in a fit of spite, eaten all of Matt’s favorite pancakes, which had given him a stomachache for a majority of the early afternoon.

But he was feeling better now, and it was a warm enough day that he could forego leather tunic and leggings in favor of shorts and a loose white shirt, buttoned high enough that Matthew couldn’t see the shell pendant.  
He knew most of the people who walked past him. The village of Marinius was small, considering the size of the island, and Alfred could identify many of the residents. Of course, he never told any of them who he was, using various fake names if someone asked.

He looked around the crowd of people, mentally listing off their names in his head: Elise, Nikolai, Michelle-

He paused. Standing by a cart, conversing with a merchant, was a man he’d never seen before. He certainly wasn’t dressed like one of the peasants of the village, his long red coat and high leather boots would have made him look like a noble if it weren’t for the roguish gleam in his startlingly green eyes and the unruly tousle of his bronze hair.

Alfred watched, transfixed, as the merchant said something that made the strange man laugh, and he tilted his head back, his pale skin flushed with the warmth of the day and the mirth of the jest.

After a while the man left the merchant’s stall and continued down the street. An overwhelming sense of curiosity came over Alfred, and without hesitating he hopped down from the wall. Walking on the opposite side of the street so that he wouldn’t be noticed as easily, he cautiously followed the mysterious man.

The man turned left, and then took a right, continuing to move towards the northern part of the village, and so did Alfred, wondering where on earth he was going. At the end of the street, to Alfred’s amazement, the man stepped off the path and into the trees.

Alfred had never been deep into the forest before. His life had been mainly confined to the castle, and, as of late, the village. But Alfred was tired of being contained, and so he carefully stepped into the woods without a second thought.  
The trees would have almost completely obscured Alfred’s view of the stranger had the man not been wearing such a flashy shade of red; the forest was so dense that the prince could barely keep up with him without crashing headlong into a tree.

Nettles bit at his bare legs, branches loomed dangerously close to his face, and fallen trees threatened to trip him if he wasn’t careful. Alfred almost considered turning around and going back, but seconds later he stumbled, panting, into an open clearing.  
Ahead of him, the grass faded into sand, the sand spreading into a beach that Alfred had never seen before but seen on maps. This was the northernmost point of Marinius.

More troubling, though, was that the stranger was nowhere to be seen. Alfred looked around him, hoping to see a glimpse of that red coat flashing between the trees, or out onto the beach, or even out into the water, but he saw only the forest and the sand and the glittering ocean.

Suddenly he heard a twig snap behind him, and before he could turn around to see what it was, he felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade press against his throat from behind.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

The voice was soft, dangerous, with an accent Alfred couldn’t place. Fear gripped him and he struggled pathetically in the man’s grasp.

“P-please- don’t hurt me, I’m sorry, just…” his voice trailed off as the blade pressed harder against his throat. He panicked and flailed desperately. “You can’t hurt me! I’m a prince!”

“I don’t care if you’re a prince or a peasant. Why were you following me?” the man demanded, tightening his grip around Alfred’s waist.

“I wanted to see where you were going,” Alfred gasped. “You don’t- you don’t live here, do you?”

“That’s none of your business,” he replied, but he released Alfred and stepped back. The prince turned unsteadily to look at him. This close, he could see the man’s eyes were precisely the color of emeralds and just as brilliant.

The man was still watching him warily, holding his sword out at arm’s length. 

“Who are you?” he asked, clearly suspicious of the prince. 

“I’m Alfred. I live on the island, in the castle. Who are you?” 

The man lowered around his sword and sheathed it. 

“Arthur Kirkland, captain of the Emerald Queen,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. Alfred’s fear turned to excitement. 

“You’re a sailor? That’s so cool!” 

“Oh, I’m more than just a sailor,” Arthur replied. “I’m a pirate.” 

Alfred gaped. A pirate was just like a sailor, but more badass, he thought to himself. 

“Where’s your ship? And your crew? You’re a pirate; you’ve got a pirate crew, right?” Arthur chuckled at Alfred’s eagerness, his suspicion vanishing.

“Just off the coast,” he said, gesturing out to the open ocean. “You can’t see her from here, but she’s beautiful, trust me. And yes, I’ve got myself a crew. They’re all off exploring the forest on the other side of the island, but I came back to fetch some gold for trading.” 

"Oh." Alfred bit his lip. He hadn't thought about the possibility that Arthur was busy with anything. Matt had told him multiple times to think of others before himself.

"….Sorry for bothering you, Captain Kirkland. I just wanted to meet you so badly..." The prince looked guiltily at the ground, his conscience getting the better of him. 

"Oh, don't be sorry, Alfred, really," Arthur said quickly. "It's rare to meet someone so tolerant of me and my chosen occupation. Most people don't look kindly upon pirates." Alfred looked at him hopefully and held out his hand. 

"Well, I mean, if it's alright with you... Nice to meet you, Captain Kirkland." 

Arthur took Alfred's outstretched hand and shook it. 

"Call me Arthur."

In the distance, the castle’s tower bell began to chime, signaling the hour. Alfred's eyes grew wide and he glanced up in the direction of the village.

"Crap," he breathed. To Arthur, he said, "I have to go, I'm sorry, but my brother will be... worried..." Arthur nodded in understanding and Alfred turned to leave the clearing. He figured he could find his way back alone- he'd trampled enough underbrush to make a sort of trail. As he peered out into the trees, Arthur called out to him and he turned to him again. 

"Alfred, it was... nice meeting you, too. Do you think we could, perhaps, meet again tomorrow? Here, at the same time?" Alfred's eyes lit up and he grinned at Arthur.

"Totally! I'll be here for sure!" Then he turned around, and, with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, went crashing off into the forest. 

Arthur stood there for a long moment, thinking about the implications of this meeting. 

"Prince Alfred," he said out loud to the empty clearing. “You may be the best choice I ever make… or my undoing.”

He turned and walked down the beach to where a rowboat was waiting on shore to take him back to the Emerald Queen. The ship swayed lightly with the movement of the gentle tide, her sails quivering in the breeze.

Soon, Arthur thought. Soon they’d be setting sail again.


End file.
